Victory or Death: Taking Inventory
by PFCDontKnow
Summary: 400,000 players logged into the much-anticipated WAO, only to find themselves trapped inside. And Ryker is going to get them out if it kills him, which is starting to look very, very likely.
1. Warehouse, Floor 1

**This is a companion piece to the awesomeness that is Victory or Death, and introduces (sort of) my OC that VoD's author Knife Hand was so wonderfully agreeable to letting in the game. The Emperor commands you read go read it.**

**Oh, and I don't own Warhammer 40k, Sword Art Online, or any of the characters in Victory or Death other than Sgt Ryker and his squad. I just play in all their sandboxes.**

* * *

To say Ryker was having a bad day would be an understatement. Of course, when you're trapped in the death game that is Warhammer 40,000 Apocalypse Online, you don't really have good days in the normal sense, but this was definitely outside of any definition of "normal". He was getting shot at, and the person responsible was (unfortunately, in his mind) on his side. And a Player. And a Commissar. And not even noticing the bodies at his feet – one of whom had been a Player. Not noticing the blood on his hands – _from a fellow Player_.

Snarling, he leveled his lasgun at another of these damned criminals stupid enough to not take cover. He got three shots off before autogun fire forced him back into cover. He did get to see the ganger collapse with a hole in his chest first, though.

There had been 24 of them when they'd first entered the warehouse, five Players and nineteen NPCs. Their fearless leader was a Sebastian-Yarrick-wannabe of a Commissar, with three Stormtrooper bodyguards, and completely failed to inspire any of the other Players by not fighting at the front. Ryker couldn't be bothered to remember his name, Regis or something.

They were accompanied by two Command Officers, both male, with five soldiers of their own in their squads, though whether they were Conscripts or full-fledged Guardsmen was – had been – up in the air. Their names were Markus and Sidon.

The only other player, aside from Ryker himself, was a fellow Infantry Commander named Jiani. She'd had three Guardsmen in her squad, as did Ryker, but unlike his, one of her squad had a plasma gun. She'd had a lot of things, and now she was lying against a crate, a red pool gathering under her from where he'd set her down after a lucky round had hit her just above the edge of her flak armor and exited out her back.

Ryker had had enough. This wasn't about winning anymore. It was about survival, everyone's survival. Even this bastard. As the Commissar rounded the corner towards Sidon's position, Ryker began broadcasting over his helmet's short-range vox and hoping someone was in range.

"To any receiving Imperial forces, this is Sergeant Ryker calling for reinforcements!"

* * *

Nothing was happening. In this game, that could be either a very good thing, or a sign that everything was about to hit the fan. Allegedly, there was a large gang that had taken up shop in this warehouse, and they needed to be eliminated before they became a problem. The Imperial Guard Captain who they'd received this mission from had said to expect heavy resistance, but so far, the Hand of the Emperor had yet to meet any.

The warehouse was beyond large, stacks of containers creating corridors wide enough for two Sentinels to walk side by side. They'd even seen a few unarmed and unarmored variants of the esteemed walker for use as cargo lifters. There didn't seem to be a pattern to the maze of crates and tanks, some passages stretching into the distance and others barely more than ten meters, with sharp turns that hid what was on the other side abundant as well as numerous dead ends.

As they moved forward, one Sentinel on point, with Jen's Sisters behind it, then Tona's squad and Neo, then Marias and her Sisters, the other Sentinel bringing up their six, they heard what sounded like gunfire, both las- and auto- before the vox crackled to life.

_++ –receiving Imperial forces, this is Sergeant Ryker calling for reinforcements! ++ _The sounds of fighting were much louder through the vox. _++ We have been cut off by heretic forces in the Warehouse, and have sustained multiple casualties! We need assistance! I say again, this is– ++_

Sister Jenith, the leader of the Hand, put her hand to her helmet. "This is Sister Superior Jenith of the Hand of the Emperor. What is your status?"

Lasfire sounded through the vox. _++ Didn't copy! Say again! ++_

"This is Sister Superior Jenith of the Hand of the Emperor. What is your status?"

_++ We're under heavy fire by roughly three-zero hostiles in the Warehouse, more incoming! How copy? ++_

"Three zero?"

"Thirty, and more on the way," Jen explained, "We copy, Sergeant. We're on our way."

_++ Thank God! Can you provide an ETA? ++_

Jen looked up at Sergeant Tona, who shrugged and held up both hands, fingers spread. "Ten minutes, at the most. Can you hold?"

_++ We'll hold! We're bunkered down about five-zero meters from the service elevator! Passcode is– ++ _An explosion reverberated through the link, punctuated by more small-arms fire._ ++ Fuck! Passcode is Gambol Shroud! ++_ With that, the vox cut out.

Jen gestured for their group to hurry. "Let's move!"

As they advanced closer to the sounds of fighting, they started coming across groups of gang members, almost all of them making _their _way towards the fight. They were easily dealt with. The members of the Hand came across what looked like a makeshift barricade, with a number of the gangers behind it, firing away at another haphazard barricade across the way. The Hand opened fire, las- and bolter-fire catching the criminals by surprise. The firefight was over in seconds.

There were five figures at the other barricade, weapons still pointed at the Hand's end. Jen held up a hand as they approached.

"Friendlies!"

"Passcode?" One of the five, in the ubiquitous olive-green flak of the Imperial Guard called out. The figure standing at the back, in what looked like the black overcoat of the Commissariat looked like he was just realizing something.

"Gambol Shroud!"

The Guardsman stood and turned to his companions. Two of the others, also in flak armor, stood and moved out of sight behind the crates in a hurry.

Jen approached the remaining haggard-looking Guardsman. "Sergeant Ryker?"

The Guardsman shook his head. "Apologies, no time to explain. We're still experiencing significant pressure from the gangers."

Though, that didn't last for too much longer. With the Hand of the Emperor easily doubling their numbers – and the added bonus of having a pair of Sentinels on your side – the gangers were far outmatched. After the fighting was over, the unknown Commissar approached. He looked young.

"Commissar Regis. Thank you for your assistance, Sister. We have the situation under control now."

Jen removed her helmet and clipped it to her belt. "Didn't you call for reinforcements?" she pointed out. The Commissar's lips curled with disgust.

"I did no such thing, nor did I order for it to be done."

"No, sir, I did," a sturdily built man just behind Regis spoke up. He looked worn-out and fed up. Helmet- and weaponless, he snapped to attention, back straight, fists along the seams of his fatigue trousers, heels together, feet spread at an angle, "Sergeant Ryker, ma'am. Thank you for responding so quickly."

"I gave _strict orders_ to maintain vox silence," Commissar Regis seethed. Sgt Ryker crossed his arms and returned the glare.

"And you can shove your vox protocols up your ass. We need their help, and you know it."

The sergeant and the Commissar were scowling at each other, each waiting for the other to look away first. With a sigh, the Commissar did, but only to turn to Sister Jen.

"You'll have to excuse my subordinate, Sister. He's undisciplined and tactless."

The sergeant rolled his eyes and came back to attention looking at Sister Jen. "You'll have to excuse my superior, ma'am," he parroted drolly, "He's got a forest up his ass, and could get lost on an empty landing pad."

* * *

Regis turned to berate the sergeant when autofire erupted. Everyone took cover as those who had removed helmets replaced them and began to return fire, Ryker excluded, as his helmet and weapon were not within easy reach. An unidentified Guardsman slid into cover from outside the barricade, a limp figure draped over his shoulder.

"Black! Report!" Ryker shouted. The Guardsman reacted to the call instantly.

"Unknown hostiles!" This "Black" relied, "Two-One and Yellow were behind me!"

Ryker peered over his crate and cursed. "Shit! Two-One's been hit!" he yelled as Sidon went down. Another Guardsman slid into cover next to "Black", dropping his own body he'd been carrying. "Suppressive fire!"

The two Guardsman responded at the same time, standing up and firing their lasguns at full auto. As they did, Ryker vaulted over the crate he'd used for cover and sprinted for one of the two prone forms lying in the open, one of whom was firing back. Picking him up in a fireman's carry, the sergeant stopped behind their lines only long enough to hand the wounded Player off to the medic in the newcomer's squad and grab his lasgun before charging back out, firing his weapon, before sprinting back with the other body.

Ryker was panting as he dropped back against a crate with a _clack_. That was stupid. Why had he done that? Sure, getting Sidon had been important, but still. He could've done that just as easily and with a lot less risk if he'd waited until the gangers were dead.

Someone kicked the bottom of his boot, and he opened his eyes to see Black offering his hand. "By the Throne, Sergeant, you got a death wish?"

Taking the offered hand, Ryker got to his feet. Instantly, he stalked over to where the Sister and the Commissar were talking. Regis was denying that they needed any help, even though the Sister was calmly insisting that they weren't going to make it on their own. When he reached them, he shoved Commissar Regis, interrupting the Sister.

"This is your fault! You've got your head stuck on this idea of 'victory or glorious martyrdom'! You think this is still a game!" He could see Regis's one remaining Stormtrooper level his Hellgun at him, but he didn't care. "A Player _died_ in that ambush, another one just dodged that fate, almost all our men are _gone_, and you _still_ refuse to back down! There's a time for last stands, but _this isn't one of them!_"

Regis bristled. "We are the Hammer of the Emperor!" he shot back, "Our duty is to die in His name if need be-"

"Marlon." Ryker had his arms crossed, his face completely composed, a sharp contrast from earlier.

Regis was caught off-guard. "What?"

Ryker continued as if Regis hadn't said anything. "Gerris. Elic. Vesta. Hastat. Ilitath. Rendon. Pavel. Kris. Dener. Balkin. Ren. Weber. Jiani."

Regis opened his mouth, but Ryker cut him off. "You know why I'm pulling quests with second-line players? Because I wanted to do my part to keep as many names as possible off of my list. So I took time to _train_ other Players, train my men, beyond what was provided on Cadmian. This is our reality now. You need to learn that quickly, or you're not going to make it out."

* * *

The Commissar looked between the sergeant and Jen a couple of times before turning and walking away, towards the center of their makeshift outpost. A female trooper approached them then, a helmet in her hand.

"You're scary when you get quiet like that, Sergeant," she said with a small smile as she handed him the helmet, "At least in training we knew what to expect if we kept pissing you off."

Ryker snorted as he put his helmet back on. "_You_ did. I swear, Artyom was just about cry every time I even glared in his direction."

He came to attention facing Jen once more, the female trooper a second behind him as she realized what her sergeant was doing. "I'm sorry you had to see that, ma'am. I really hate having to be the grown-up sometimes. Mostly when I have to be someone's parent."

Jen just nodded. "I know the feeling." She looked around the temporary safe zone they'd carved out before turning back to the sergeant. "What's the situation?"

"It's a mess, ma'am," Sgt Ryker sighed, moving to stand at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back, his feet about shoulder-width apart, "Two Player casualties, one KIA. Thirteen NPC casualties, all KIA. Everyone's tired, though we're set on ammo for a while. My squad is the only squad in any sort of condition for operations; Markus and Sidon are down to one Guardsman each, and Commissar Ass-Wipe's one last Stormtrooper isn't very helpful unless said ass-wipe is in the fight, which he rarely is."

Jen decided she was going to ignore the blatant disrespect for the Commissar for now. "Any intel on what to expect on the second floor?"

Ryker shook his head. "We got hit almost right off the service elevator. Everyone's favorite Yarrick-wannabe walked us right into an ambush."

It was at this point Neo apparently decided he'd had enough. "Got any other glowing compliments for the Commissariat?" The sarcasm dripping from his voice could've filled a small pond.

Ryker leveled a calculating stare at him. "I would follow Ibram Gaunt into the Eye of Terror and back. You're not Ibram Gaunt, unfortunately." He crossed his arms across his chest and sighed. "I've given every other Commissar Player the benefit of the doubt, I guess it's your turn. You get one shot."

Neo sneered. "How generous."

Ryker snorted derisively before he heard the sniggering of the small Asian and shot her a curious look.

"Sergeant Tona," she introduced, by way of explanation.

Ryker nodded in greeting before pulling out a lho-stick pack and a zippo lighter. Turning back to the main group, he started to light a stick when the guardsman behind him grabbed his arm.

"I thought you weren't going to smoke on-mission, Sergeant?" she remarked pointedly. The two stared each other down for several moments before Ryker shoved the pack and lighter back into an empty magazine pouch on his belt a little harder than was probably necessary.

"Orders, ma'am?" he asked, half-turning towards Jen. She looked up at Rock, just returned from scouting out the path to the elevator.

"We're clear," he called down from his Sentinel.

"Five minutes. Rendezvous at the service elevator."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

* * *

**Go read Victory or Death. And review, please. I like hearing what people think about my writing.**


	2. Warehouse, Floor 2

**Oh, look. A new chapter. This took forever and a day...**

**I have no excuses.**

* * *

"Jen," Tona's voice brought the Sister out of her reverie as she tried to plan out their assault on the second level with what little they knew. "They're at it again," the Guard Sergeant groused, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

Jen caught the tail end of their argument as she approached.

"It's the _Hand_ of the _Emperor_, Regis. We're safer now than when we started your damned fool crusade."

"_Commissar_ Regis," said Player growled in reply, "And we are in no condition to carry on like this, strongest guild in the Imperium or not. We need to fall back, and get more Players. You said it yourself, this isn't a game anymore."

Ryker huffed. "Figures, the one time you listen to me," he grumbled. "In case you hadn't noticed, _Commissar_, most of these gangers started to crawl out of the woodwork the second we started retreating. The system apparently doesn't want anyone leaving once they enter." The sarcastic emphasis on Regis's title did not go unnoticed.

"And whose idea was it to fall back in the first place, _Sergeant_?"

"You can't blame me for this. The system's never done anything like this before. I only suggested a reasonable solution for our tactical situation at the time," Ryker replied quickly in a dead tone.

Regis sneered derisively at that. "Who are you trying to convince, Sergeant?"

Ryker hesitated. "...I don't know."

Jen spoke up at that point. "We can work it out later. Right now, we need to plan. Gather everyone on me."

Ryker looked over his shoulder at a group of three Guardsmen nearby cleaning their lasguns. "Artyom," he called to one of them, "Find the other Players, tell them Sister Superior Jenith's called for a briefing."

"Aye, Sergeant."

* * *

_"Bum a smoke off ya?"_

_ Ryker looked up from the now half-empty pack of lho sticks he'd bought, another hanging from his lips, unlit. A girl with boyishly short brown hair and a forced smile on her face stood there. Wordlessly, he held out the pack with shaking hands. Nodding in thanks, she took one, as well as the lighter Ryker offered. Her own hands were shaking as she lit the lho stick and handed back the lighter._

_ "You smoke, huh?"_

_ The girl laughed weakly. "After what I just heard? I'd say I do now."_

_ Ryker had to chuckle in weak agreement as he lit his ninth – tenth? – stick. He'd lost count._

"Sergeant."

The voice of the Angel of Macros brought him back to the present. A quick look revealed Artyom was still informing the others about the briefing. "Ma'am?"

"You said your squad was mission-capable?"

"Luckily, ma'am," Ryker answered with a grin, "All that's injured right now is our pride." He just hoped she bought the smile, or at least didn't call him out on it.

Regis mumbled something under his breath Ryker pretended very hard to not hear, although he thought he heard what sounded suspiciously like "coward". Thankfully, Artyom picked that moment to return.

"They're on their way, Sergeant."

Ryker simply nodded. "Alright. Stand by." With a nod of his own, Artyom returned to his squadmates and began disassembling his lasgun to continue cleaning it.

Within a minute, all the remaining Players had gathered around Sister Jenith's position. She looked over at the wounded Command Officer, Sidon. "How are you holding up?"

"I'll live, Sister," Sidon answered with a grimace, "It's not that bad." Ryker wasn't buying it, and apparently, neither was Sister Jenith.

"Regardless, our best course of action would be for you, Markus, and Regis to stay behind and hold the elevator, with Sergeant Tona-" here she nodded to the female Infantry Commander "in overall command." She held up a hand to forestall the inevitable complaint from Regis. "No offense, Commissar, but I know Tona. I don't know you, and the impression I've gotten has not been…exceedingly positive."

Regis glared at Ryker before turning back to Sister Jenith. He looked like he was going to argue with her for a moment before he bowed his head. "Of course, Sister," he replied with just the hint of a grumble, "I understand." He didn't look too happy to let another Player have command, much less a Guard Player.

Sister Jenith nodded in a sense of finality. "Sergeant Ryker, you'll be joining us as Tona's replacement for the time being."

Ryker returned the nod. "Understood, ma'am." He turned to the three NPCs sitting nearby. "Form up!" was his order, "You're not getting paid to sit there looking pretty. Or in Pallin's case, just sit there."

One of the NPCs grumbled something that had the female from earlier roll her eyes and the third bite his lip to suppress a laugh as they slung their lasguns over shoulders and lined up in front of Ryker.

"Awesome, Pallin, thank you for volunteering to stand firewatch all by yourself the next time we're out in the field, we all really appreciate it."

The older of the two male NPCs bit back a curse, while the younger bit back another laugh. Ryker just smirked at them before straightening to attention. "Squad! Ah-ten…Shun!"

The three NPCs snapped to attention, their left hands balled in a fist, thumb along the trouser seam of their fatigues, right arm forming a ninety-degree angle at the elbow while their hands held onto the sling of their lasguns.

Ryker turned to the gathered Hand who were looking on with various levels of interest and impressed with the faintest hint of a smirk. "Squad Seven reporting for duty, ma'am."

With a bemused smirk of her own, Sister Jenith nodded to the sergeant. "Right. Let's get moving."

Ryker nodded and turned back to his men. "Fall out!"

At that, the three relaxed and everyone stepped off towards the service elevator just behind them. Sister Jenith made sure everyone was aboard – surprisingly, both Sentinels fit with enough room for the rest of the party – before hitting the activation rune to start the lift.

As the elevator began its grinding climb with a screeching lurch, Ryker unslung his own lasgun. "Kit check," he ordered. With the smooth movements of professionals, the NPCs began to go through the same motions as him, checking for loose parts, ammo levels, vox operation, and for any missing equipment.

The female trooper was the first one done. "White here, green, green, up."

"Black. I'm green, green, up." The older male NPC cracked his neck as he finished.

"Yellow reporting green, green, up."

"Red copies, all green, green up."

White looked up at her sergeant. "Partner pairs?"

"Monochrome and Royal."

"Aww, Sergeant…"

"I don't trust you not to try and walk out of this warehouse with very dangerous things that just 'happened' to fall out of a crate."

"Rules of Engagement?" Yellow asked.

"If it moves, and it's not us, shoot it until it stops moving."

Sister Marias gave a small snort of laughter as she checked over her bolter. "That sounds like a brilliant idea."

"It's always worked for me, ma'am," Ryker replied respectfully. The lift came to a shrieking halt as they reached the second level, bristling with weaponry as the Hand of the Emperor and Ryker's squad aimed out at an empty landing.

"Clear."

Everyone relaxed fractionally at White's call, though no one lowered their weapons.

* * *

Jen looked over her party before giving the order. "Move out."

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Sergeant Ryker and his squad had spread out enough that one grenade wouldn't be able to take out the whole squad.

Rock's Sentinel took the lead again as they started forward toward the winding maze of crates, followed by Jen's own squad, then the sergeant's squad loosely arrayed around Neo and his Stormtrooper bodyguard, then Marias's Sisters, and the other Sentinel bringing up the rear.

"The gangers have a chokepoint set up right after we lose sight of the elevator," Ryker spoke up, pointing ahead to the left turn in the maze, the only turn they could make. "At least two heavy stubbers opened up on us from the front, while a bunch of infantry started firing at us from the sides."

Jen nodded. "Everyone stay sharp."

Just like Ryker had said, no sooner had they turned the corner and lost sight of the service elevator and landing than two heavy stubbers opened fire from further down the corridor of crates.

"Ambush!"

Bolter and lasfire erupted in return of the sudden onslaught of auto- and stubber rounds that began to impact around the Hand of the Emperor. The vox came alive briefly as Ryker's squad all hit the deck.

"Contact front! Contact front!"

"Contact left! Gangers on the catwalk!"

"Contact right! Shit, that's an RPG!" Black's voice rang over the vox right as the homemade grenade launcher fired off with a _whoosh_ right towards Rock's Sentinel, spiraling up and to the right as White's shots threw the ganger's aim at the last second, exploding harmlessly against a metal crate just beyond the Sentinel.

Jen saw Ryker rush the bottom of the ladder while Yellow provided cover fire in her peripheral vision as she sighted in on the gang members firing down at them from the catwalk. The staccato _dakkadakkadakka_ of the Bolter in her hands was reassuring as the _pings_ of stubber and autorounds impacting off her armor sounded around her. While her armor was impervious to the rounds, it couldn't cover all of her.

Rock's Sentinel made short work of the Heavy Stubber positions – as well as a good portion of the surrounding crates – and the fight went from slanted in favor of the Hand to entirely one-sided. Lasfire distracted some of the gangers as Ryker made it up to the catwalk and opened fire from there, and all fire from the right side of their position stopped after a loud _whumpf_ that was almost more felt than heard.

For a moment, the only thing Jen could hear was the sound of her own breathing before Marias spoke up.

"Clear."

Black appeared on the lip of the crates that lined the right side of their path, the patchwork missile launcher in his hands. "Hey, Sergeant can I–"

"No."

_When did they get up there?_ Jen thought. Black frowned before tossing the launcher back behind him as White prepared to jump down, and Jen could just hear Jazz mumbling under her breath at the back of the column about how she hadn't gotten to shoot anything.

"Don't worry," Sergeant Ryker reassured the NPC Sentinel pilot. "It's a long walk from here to the Boss."

Jen nodded up at him from his position on the catwalk as he made his way back to the catwalk's ladder.

The squad fell back in line, and they pushed forward. After the first few dead ends, Sergeant Ryker requested permission to have his squad scout out the side passages to save time. When Neo asked him what he thought would happen if he ran into opposition, Ryker rather bluntly replied that the scouts would "sprint their happy asses back to the group to drop some serious hurt on the gangers. Duh."

This idea was tentatively allowed, and Ryker immediately sent White and Black "hunting".

Things quickly fell into a routine. White and Black ranged ahead of Rock's Sentinel, scouting out side passages and quickly reporting back if they encountered enemies or a dead end. More ambushes were sprung on the main party a couple of times, but they were never as big as that first ambush, though the sheer number of them was daunting.

Jazz finally got to shoot something when the gangers tried to box the party in a particularly vicious ambush, though not many noticed as a group of the heretic gangers had come howling out from a previously-cleared side passage wielding a mix of close-quarter weaponry, and even a chainsword or two.

Jen finished off one of the gangers just in time to see another tackle Ryker to the ground. The ganger reared back to drive his knife into the Guardsman Player's face before the bark of Neo's Bolt Pistol took off the heretic's head.

"How was that for my 'one shot'?" the Commissar asked sardonically as he offered a hand to the sergeant. Ryker smirked as he took it and stood up.

"Accurate enough for me, sir."

Black, who had just returned to the group with White, bent down to pick up a chainsword.

"No, Black."

"Emperor damn it!"

* * *

Ryker was starting to get a little tense. It was quiet. The game never got quiet unless shit was about to hit the fan. Black and White had just rounded the corner leading down another side path that formed a T-junction with the current one. Not three seconds after they disappeared around the corner than the game vindicated Ryker's gut feeling. Again.

"Shit shit shit shit SHIT!" Black sprinted back around the corner on White's heels as a loud _WWWWWWRRRRZZZZZZ _sounded behind him and a veritable wall of rounds chewed up the crates.

"Hey, Sergeant?" Black panted, "I think we found the Boss…"

"No shit. Did you get a good look at him?"

"He had a _really_ _big_ gun."

White elbowed Black before making her report. "He was armed with an assault cannon, but other than that, I didn't get a very good look."

"An _assault cannon_?"

"He was really big, too," Black piped up, "Like, Ogryn-big. But he's not an Ogryn."

"Come on out, little dogs! Come out and die!"

Ryker quirked an eyebrow at the booming voice that echoed down the maze. "_That_ sounds suspiciously unlike a gangster. Were there any eight-pointed crosses or stars or the like?"

White shook her head. "Not that I could see."

"And if you _had_ seen any?"

"Slag it and pray the Inquisition never finds out."

She had her helmet on, but Ryker was willing to bet Sister Jenith was looking at him disbelievingly behind the red eyepieces. Commissar Neoth certainly was. Ryker turned back to the scouts.

"Is this the only way in?"

White shook her head. "The turn right up ahead leads right into the Boss's area as well."

Ryker nodded before turning to the Party leader. "What's the plan?"

After a few silent seconds in which Ryker decided he preferred the open-faced helmets of the Guard since he could see what was going through his commander's head, Sister Jenith spoke up.

"Push forward. I need a better idea of what we're up against first."

* * *

The Hand of the Emperor crept forward, weapons at the ready. Jen kept her breathing steady as she swept the area, its size easily as large as the lift landing, or the makeshift firebase Ryker's previous party was holding on the first level.

The whining build-up of an assault cannon had her diving for cover, her armor _clash_ing against someone else's as a hail of lead tore through the air where they'd just been standing, Jazz's Sentinel taking a hit to the leg, rendering it immobile. And in their way out.

"Good thing we weren't planning on running," she heard Ryker grumble as he tried to make himself as small as possible. If her armor would get chewed up by that cannon, his might as well not even exist. "Jazz? You good?"

If she was surprised he remembered her name, she didn't let the rest of them hear it. "Bruised my ego, Sarge, but I'm fine."

Ryker frowned, but whatever he was about to say was preempted by White's voice over the vox. "Sergeant, the Customs and Courtesies brief can wait, right? We're kinda being shot at."

Ryker grimaced. "Right. Orders, ma'am?" This last was directed at Jen.

She risked a glance over the metal container she was behind, catching a glimpse of a very physically imposing man holding an old-looking assault cannon in his hands and a look of manic glee on his face. Physically imposing – if she hadn't fought the Ork Boss on Macros' Garden. He had no cover, no armor.

"We need a diversion. Something loud."

"Makes you wish we had a _rocket launcher_ or something, hey, Sergeant?"

"Black, if I _want_ your opinion, I will _give_ it to you!"

Jen ignored the two. "Rock?"

"My Sentinel's down, too. Sorry, Jen."

Something like a large grenade arced through the air from one of the nearby pieces of cover to explode not far from the Boss. The Hand took advantage of the momentary absence of assault cannon rounds whizzing overhead to pop up and open fire, bolter and lasfire chipping away at the surprisingly tough – and now roaring – ganger. He recovered, and they all dropped back down as he opened fire again.

"Yellow, was that a _melta bomb_?" Black sounded like he was in awe.

"We're _sitting_ on a _crate_ of them, idiot."

"Black, I had better not find a _single one_ in your pack during inventory later."

A couple moments later, another melta bomb arced overhead. The Hand fired at the ganger, before he recovered from the near-miss of an anti-vehicle charge and forced them back into cover.

"This will take forever," Ryker grumbled, "Anyone got any brilliant ideas?"

"Yes," Neo answered, "Trooper! I need a melta bomb!"

Nonplussed, Jen watched as Yellow slid an unprimed melta bomb over to the Commissar. He set it, and then nodded to Ryker, who blinked for a moment before grinning madly.

"You're fucking crazy, sir," he told the Commissar, "One more time, Yellow!"

This time, when the Hand stood to fire at the ganger boss, Neo vaulted the crate in front of him, and _sprinted_ towards him. As he got closer, he threw himself into a slide, slipping in between the Boss's legs, leaving the melta bomb almost directly underneath the giant of a man. His slide carried him almost to the "wall", and he covered his head as the bomb went off, obliterating the assault-cannon-wielding criminal.

"That was…anticlimactic," White remarked.

Ryker was laughing as he hauled the slightly-singed Commissar to his feet. "That was the craziest shit I have ever seen. You're alright, for a Commissar."

Jen was frowning as she removed her helmet. The rest of the party had spread out, trying to find parts to repair the Sentinels. Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a massive _Whumpf! _from near the remains of the Boss.

"_PALLIN!_" Ryker roared, turning to find a very sick looking Pallin, a pool of vomit next to an incinerated crate that was still smoking. He looked up at the gathered Players with fear in his eyes.

"Hey, Sergeant, when you said 'pray the Inquisition never finds out', did you mean like, a _metaphorical_ prayer, or is there actually a Litany of Inquisitorial Amnesia?"


	3. Introspection

**Longer chapter this time. Sorry for the wait. Hopefully, it's worth it.**

**Not my sandbox. Just playing in it.**

* * *

One week, since the warehouse incident. Seven days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. More seconds than Ryker cared to do the math for.

Light filtered down from sconces along the wall and from chandeliers hung from the roof of the cathedral, illuminating the Aquila he held in his hands, two words imprinted into the metal: _Imperator Protegat_.

_"The Emperor Protects," Ryker translated as he looked over Jiani's shoulder at the metal charm she held in her hands, "You don't actually buy into that stuff, do you?"_

_"Like you've never had a lucky charm before," Jiani teased as she paid for it before slipping it in her pocket._

_"Of course I've got a lucky charm," he replied smoothly, "I've got you."_

_Jiani's laugh filled the Hive market. "Nice to know where I stand, Rye."_

_Ryker grinned at his partner before pointing out, "You never answered my question."_

_Jiani shrugged. "It's a nice thought, at least. And the NPCs seem to like it when we act like we believe it."_

_"I'm not sure I see the point in wasting time listening to some random NPC drone on about stuff in badly-mangled Latin. How does that get us all out of here?"_

_"It doesn't. But that doesn't mean it's a waste of time, Rye. We may be trapped here, but we can still have fun while we do it." Seeing he still wasn't convinced, Jiani just smiled tiredly. "Besides, you need to relax from time to time, as well. Too much stress leads to mistakes, and then people die, and no one gets out."_

_Ryker thought about it, and Jiani could see acceptance start to seep through. "Well, church has always been a good place to take naps," he finally admitted with a grin. Jiani's grin mirrored his as she dragged him out of the street._

_"Glad you agree. C'mon, I need a smoke, and I left mine at the barracks."_

"I have to say, a place of worship is the last place I would have expected to find you, Sergeant." The voice shook Ryker out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see another Player in a white outfit, loose-fitting and hooded, smiling at him from the edge of the pew.

"You accusing me of something?" Ryker ground out, his eyes narrowing. He did not need to hear this shit from what was most likely a second- or third-line Player.

The Player held up his hands in a clear gesture of surrender, and the smile turned apologetic. "No. Merely an observation of your character."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Most in your position would be face down in a tavern, I'd expect," the Player explained as he took a seat next to the sergeant, "I've seen more than a few do so already."

"'Wine is a mocker, beer is a brawler, and whoever staggers'-," Ryker started to quote.

"-'Whoever staggers because of them is not wise,' true." the Player finished easily, "Proverbs twenty, verse one." There was a long pause before he spoke up again. When he did, his eyes were shaded by his hood, but the rest of his face revealed sorrow, or – more likely – pity, "I am truly sorry for your loss, though I'm sure you believe my words to be empty ones."

Ryker shrugged, spinning the Aquila between his fingers. "Pay me to care." He meant for his words. He wore his feelings on his sleeves where She was concerned, and this white-robed Player understood that, judging by his laughter, so out of place for the somber cathedral.

"Ever the mercenary. Though I doubt it stems from a lack of loyalty." And suddenly, his reason for approaching the despondent Guardsmen sergeant became clear.

"If you're trying to recruit me, you can leave now," Ryker stated calmly. Normally, he'd've told him in no uncertain terms what he could do with his offer, and in fact was biting back what would've ended up a harsher tirade than usual, but he respected this guy. He hadn't been anything but respectful of Ryker, and so he had no reason to respond any other way. "We both agreed no guilds back on Cadmian."

"Then I shall respect both of your wishes." With that sentence, Ryker's respect for this white-garbed man rose another couple notches. The unknown Player stood and began to leave. He stopped, and turned back to Ryker. "I believe you are a pragmatic man, Sergeant," he said, "Think on it, at least. I don't think you will be able to remain completely detached forever."

"…And if I change my mind?"

"We will speak with you again."

* * *

Time passed. Ryker and his squad trained and took a few small missions here and there. He ran into Markus on one of those jobs, his squad replenished, and the way the new NPCs had seemed in awe of the Warehouse survivors made the Players chuckle.

Ryker surprised everyone – himself included – by offering to train Markus and his men the way he'd done on Cadmian after the Command Officer had wished aloud that if only his men were trained so well.

Markus had seemed intrigued and after speaking with the Head of his Guild, had surprised the Marine by bringing said Guild along, totaling five Players and eighteen NPCs, divided between two Command Officers, two Infantry Commanders, and a Commissar (Markus and his squad included).

Not long after that, he took a look at an Escort Mission going to Arien Hive. It sounded like good work, and it got them out of Toten Hive. _Dead Hive_. When he and his squad arrived at the convoy, he was surprised and glad to see what looked like the Hand of the Emperor amidst the Players taking part in the Escort Mission. He'd only worked with them the one time, but he enjoyed it. He sent the squad to find an open Chimera for them to use, while he approached the gathered Players for orders, stuffing his hands in his pockets when arrived. He nodded at the Sentinel Jock and the Commissar he recognized. Rock and Neo, if his memory hadn't failed him.

Sister Superior Jenith arrived not long after and briefed them and they were soon underway. Neo had approached Ryker as he stood with his squad by a chimera, waiting for the order to mount up.

"You ridin' with us, sir?" Ryker asked as he saluted the Commissar, his squad a half-second behind him.

Neo returned their salute with amusement and replied, "Someone has to keep an eye on you." He looked at the sergeant for a moment before his face lit up in recognition. "You were at the warehouse, weren't you?"

Ryker nodded, but his reply was cut off by Sister Superior Jenith's order to mount up. Inside the Chimera was too loud for a conversation, and the four Guardsmen kept a wary eye out as they left the Hive.

They arrived at Arien Hive without any resistance, and Ryker supervised the off-loading of supplies while Sister Superior Jenith spoke with local authorities. When she brought up going after the raiders that were plaguing the area, it took him a surprising amount of discipline to keep from immediately leaping forward to volunteer. It was easy to convince himself that since the Sister was the head of their group, it was her decision of when to release him from his "contract" – he really did think in what that white-robed Player so long ago had claimed were "mercenary" terms when it came to partying – and so he'd stick around until he was paid. It was much harder an argument to sustain, though, the longer he stuck around.

Only after he admitted to himself that he'd had purposefully ignored several chances to "cancel the contract" was he able to question why he continued to stick around the Hand. They were close. They trusted each other, relied on each other, and they were all the stronger for it. Not that they were separately weak, all of them were first-line Players, and each would've made a remarkable Guild Master in their own right. They were…a family, almost.

He wanted to be a part of that. He'd realized too late what She'd been trying to show him with all those sermons and "morale improvement activities" she'd dragged him to, and he didn't want to miss it again. And so he hadn't refused when he had the chance to join the Hand of the Emperor, and while their attitudes toward him never changed from before, there was something different about it, and he fought all the harder to keep it.

_Would you be proud, if you could see me?_ Ryker thought to himself as he sat on a bench at the edge of a small clearing back in the Hive Marketplace, watching people come and go.

_"Stop that."_

_"Stop what?" The grin on his face made it perfectly clear he knew exactly what she was telling him to stop._

_"The…people-watching. I swear, I feel like you're about to pull up a hood, stand up and go shank someone."_

_Ryker couldn't help but laugh. "This isn't Assassin's Creed, Jiani. The Hive's a Safe Zone, I couldn't go Templar-hunting if I wanted to. Besides, I know you'd stop me if I tried something that crazy."_

_Jiani gave him an amused, derisive snort. "As if I could ever stop you."_

"Karas said that you wouldn't join a guild out of respect for your dead." The speaker's brusque tone dragged Ryker out of his reminiscence. Standing in front of him, arms crossed, was a Player, garbed in what reminded Ryker of the white-clothed figure from the cathedral all those months ago, though where those white robes had been so obviously off-duty attire, like his spare fatigues or the Sister's robes, this one was armored in the black carapace of the Storm Troopers, with a black hood that replaced his helmet, and sparked the memories.

_Karas must've been that guy's name, then._ This whole process took Ryker mere seconds to realize, and he responded just as curtly as his speaker.

"He also said we would speak again if I changed my mind. He was right, though I'd rather tell him that in person."

"He was unable to come himself," The Storm Trooper shot back instantly, without hesitating. Not fast enough to be a lie, but fast enough that he knew Ryker would've asked. "What made you change your mind?"

Ryker could feel his face wiping itself blank. "That's private."

"I did not mean to pry." Ryker didn't believe him, and from the look on his face, the Storm Trooper hadn't expected him to. "If I may ask, though, do you believe…she…would agree with you?"

"Yes." If he was surprised, he didn't let it show. Ryker was caught a little off-guard himself with how confidently he said it. "I think She would."

The black-armored Player was silent for a moment before he spoke. "I'll speak with my masters, but if you aren't against it, there could be a way for you to serve both your Guild, and aid us as well." He seemed honest enough, but the road to Chaos – _Damn, now I'm starting to do it_ – was paved with good intentions.

"I doubt it. I'd be a horrible spy."

"I agree," the Storm Trooper stated with a smirk, "You are far from duplicitous. But there must still be some way you can help."

Ryker leveled an unimpressed stare at the Player before he finally asked the question he'd never asked the first time. "Who are you people, by the way?"

The reply was as cryptic as he figured it would be, for a group taking such pains in secrecy. "We serve the light of the Imperial Truth from the shadows. We are as dedicated to the peoples of the Imperium as you, Sergeant."

"Well, that tells me everything and nothing at the same time," Ryker grumbled.

That seemed to amuse the Storm Trooper to no end. "That's the point."

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm called Liav." And with that, he walked away, leaving Ryker seated on the bench with his thoughts, and a riddle.

* * *

Time continued its inexorable march forward. The Underhive was opened, and the Hand of the Emperor was the tip of the spear that was the Imperial effort to take it back. Ryker was never more glad for the way he'd trained his squad. The fighting was close, gritty, urban combat, more often than not room-to-room struggles to secure good angles of fire. Jen was a blessing direct from the Throne. He wasn't so blind as to think she was perfect – he spent too much time around her to believe that – but he could see that she was everything the Imperium needed in its Commanding Player if they had any chance of escaping this hell.

Eventually, the Hand rotated off the front, and spent some much needed time unwinding. He tried to catch up on some of the books he'd purchased – the level of detail in this game was truly amazing, to have whole novels written in-universe – but the other guys kept dragging him around, so when Rock asked what his book was about, his response was "The Emperor, seventeen Sisters of Battle, and a whole lot of maple syrup."

Their reactions were even better than he'd hoped for. He'd run into very few Players that had actual military experience, so watching them all splutter and twitch at the mental images he was sure they were experiencing made it very hard to keep a straight face.

"Nice vehicles," he threw over his shoulder as he returned to the barracks before he completely lost it.

He laughed even harder later when after Marias ran in to a seven-day store to buy syrup, he explained that the other males probably thought that half the Sisters at the Convent had had a syrup orgy – and that he thought she must really like pancakes – her only response was to say that "you don't use maple syrup. You use strawberry jam."

* * *

The day before they were set to return to the front, Ryker was reading when he heard the door open and close without announcement. A glance over the top of his book revealed white robes and a hooded face.

"You are one of the Hand of the Emperor." It wasn't a question.

"Sure, come on in," Ryker mockingly grumbled, "I'm glad you asked."

Karas's mouth twitched, but he didn't respond to the jab. Instead, he cast his eyes about the room - empty save for the two Players - before lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Sergeant, would you say that you are an open-minded man?"

"'An open mind is like a fortress with its gates unbarred and unguarded'," Ryker replied almost thoughtlessly.

"Quite the warrior poet."

"I read a lot."

The robed figure smiled. "Whether you believe that particular Blood Raven maxim or not," he began, "please bear in mind that what I say, I say out of concern for the Imperium."

Ryker was starting to feel concerned. He folded the corner of the page to mark his place and set the book down. "What are you talking about?"

Karas swept the room again before uttering his next words. "Rumors have come to our attention that Sister Superior Jenith is in communion with the Ruinous Powers."

"Bullshit."

Karas simply nodded at the sergeant's instantaneous reply. "And that is the fear. We have no proof of these accusations, and yet they appear to be too prolific to be baseless. You, though. You are a realist, Sergeant. Even as close to her as you are, you can make an effort to be objective, can't you?" His words were beginning to come faster, his tone pleading. "Find us proof of this. I beg you, do not let all our efforts be for naught."

Ryker didn't respond for a minute. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. _This is bullshit. Jen wouldn't...but how do I know that? Because she told me?_ "I…need some time to think about it."

"I understand." The white-robed Player turned and opened the door, before turning to say one last thing. "Do you believe the circumstances behind Sister Jenith's rise are...wholly benevolent, sergeant? Think about it."

* * *

_The Dark Prince is commonly sought by those who seek power and recognizance. Is that what he was getting at? But she's never wanted it...is she that good of an actor? I've seen the mask come off, just a little. She is that good._

"Hey, Ryker. Is there something up?" Tona's voice pierced the tumultuous fog of doubt that had settled in his gut.

"What do you mean?"

"You just seem a bit distracted the last day or so. You thinking about those kids we taught to play Rugby?"

Ryker smiled at the memory. "No. It's just…" How much could he safely say? His doubts aside, the mission came first. He didn't need to burden the others. "...I met someone, just before we came back down. Someone I haven't seen in quite a while and didn't expect to see again."

"Friend? Enemy? It wasn't that asshole Commissar, was it? What was his name?"

"Regis? No. I heard he got killed a month after the Warehouse fight..." _What are they to me? No Imperial Player can be an enemy, but I don't know them at all..._ "...I don't know if they're a friend or an enemy. I guess it was just shock from seeing them again."

Tona shrugged. "Fair enough, I guess. But it's time to get your head back into the game."

"Yeah…"

* * *

"Fuck! Just…fuck!"

"Sergeant, calm down, please," his second-in-command said calmly as she tried to keep her commander from injuring himself further as he beat at the wall, "You're going to break something…"

"Neo's dead, Victoria!" Ryker roared back, whirling on her, "Dead! And I couldn't do anything! Again!" _Just like Her...How could she let that happen?!_

"And punching the wall isn't going to help, Sergeant. Please, stop."

Ryker took a deep breath, bottling his rage, and nodded. Victoria sat him down, and set some gauze down next to him for him to wrap his hands with, before gesturing to Tristan subtly to keep an eye on him. The last thing they needed was for _him_ to break on them.

As he bandaged his hand, the message icon began to blink, indicating he had an unread message. Still simmering, he swiped at it harshly.

++ _This is what we feared, Sergeant. Would the Angel of Macros have left one of her own to die? Or let the insubordination of those under her command stand?_ ++

_Of course not. Command must be enforced, else the whole collapses, and it ends...in blood..._

_No..._

* * *

"Tristan." The flame specialist looked up from where her flamer was disassembled in front of her with a jerk. The sergeant was on edge. _Not good._ "I'm going to speak with the CO. Got a few things I want to clarify before we head back out."

She almost sighed in relief. _Probably just operational stress. Thank the Emperor..._ "Good to go, sergeant."

She still gave the rapidly reddening gauze over his knuckles a worrying look as he left.

* * *

Ryker halted outside the door as he saw Hawk and Marias split up and approach the two separate figures from where they hadn't moved since Neo's...death. He felt Tona's pain, he'd been there not too long ago. It hurt to see her like that, but what made it worse was he couldn't even help. She just retreated further. Jen's seeming obliviousness to this only vindicated his ire. His gaze turned to see her staring back at Hawk as the commissar squatted down in front of her, Neo's Bolt pistol in hand.

"You going to check out on us?" she asked carefully.

Jen was silent for a moment before she finally spoke. "What?" She sounded...lost.

"Neo's Bolt pistol," Hawk explained, waving it in her hand, "It looked like you were going to use it to check out. Like Sellon did."

Ryker winced. His first failure. Sellon had been a friend, and his suicide right outside the city had caught him completely off-guard.

Jen was silent for a long moment before she spoke again. "No. At least, I don't think so. But I don't think I can command anymore. I got Neo killed. I almost got Tona killed."

"Did you order Legio Invictus out of position?"

"No." Jen's tone was flat.

"Did you want to get Neo or Tona killed?"

"Of course not!" Genuine anger. Affronted. Upset at the implication she'd throw away their lives like that.

And Ryker had been about to accuse her of not caring. Looking at her now, pushed to her breaking point, he was ashamed he'd even considered Karas's claim. This was no devotee of the Dark Prince, sacrificing her followers on the altar of advancement. No war-crazed minion of the Lord of Skulls, spilling blood for its own sake. He felt sick.

_To question is to doubt._ The oft-quoted Thought of the Day hit him with all the force of a kick to the gut. He refused to be blindly obedient to anyone, but there was still some small truth to that proverb. Jen had done nothing to bring doubt to her faithfulness, there was no reason to question her devotion to the Imperium and its Players. He found himself moving forward, his anger replaced with disquiet and resignation. Hawk turned a glare of absolute _death_ on him, and he faltered, coming to a stop partway in the room.

"Ma'am?" He kept his eyes straight forward, unable to look either of them in the eye. "I need to speak with Sister Jenith. When...when she's..." He trailed off, unsure now what he was trying to say. He felt eyes burning into the back of his skull even after he'd left the room.


End file.
